Jackson
I pull out my phone and grimace at the caller ID, weighing my options.
If I ignore this call like I’ve been ignoring the texts all day, my mom might do something dramatic—
Like get on a damned plane and knock on my door in the middle of the night.
And I have plans that don’t involve calming my hysterical mother.
“You should get that,” Claire murmurs.
I shake my head, pocketing my still vibrating phone. “Let’s enjoy our dinner. I don’t want to interrupt.”
“Like I did with my freakout and sprint to the bathroom?”
My grin is wolfish. “Minus the freakout, I very much liked making out with you in the bathroom. Especially because you agreed to act out those fantasies you have about me.”
Her eyebrows fly up, cheeks flaring bright. “Excuse me?”
My phone cuts off, and I lean across the table, brushing my knuckles along the column of her throat…right as my phone starts up again.
Claire hears it, and she captures my hand, presses a kiss to my palm that has my cock twitching. “Answer it,” she orders softly. “I’ll just be here with my lemon cake.”
One of the many desserts Kurt brought out.
Asshole’s clearly trying to impress my girl.
The thought gives me pause—like wanting to plot the murder of an old friend— but Claire’s reaching for her fork and scooping up a bite of cake, her soft moan wrapping its fingers around my cock and distracting me from the murderous thoughts.
Lucky bastard.
Saved by a moan.
“Honey?”
I blink, tearing my gaze from her lush mouth, the tip of that pink tongue flicking out to capture a bit of icing. I want it tracing along the head of my cock, dragging lower, over my balls. I want—
“Honey, are you there?”
This time the question is loud enough that I realize I’ve somehow answered on speaker.
Claire looks up, eyebrows dragged together, concern on her face. “You okay?” she mouths.
I was just thinking about you sucking my dick, no big deal.
“I’m here, Mom,” I say before that little nugget slips out and I both scar my mother and send Claire running out of the kitchen a second time.
Though…
She picks up the fork again, brings it to her mouth—
A hint of wicked in her eyes as she dips it inside, as she allows her lips to drag along the tines, capturing the thick, white frosting and swallowing it with a soft moan.
I’m hard.
I’ve been in a perpetual state of arousal from the moment I first saw Claire, and it hasn’t eased over the years. And after having tasted her, touched her, learned more about her, peeled back the layers to get to know the wonderful woman beneath…that’s only grown.
Until I want to fuck her here on the table or back in that bathroom.
But…control.
Slow and steady, showing her how fucking great she is.
Not taking advantage of a virgin because my dick is hard.
“…and then your dad said—”
I shake myself, not missing the sly little smile Claire sends me, not missing that the tiny smirk tells me far more than anything else today. She’s getting more confident, more comfortable.
This is working.
I tamp down on my arousal, focus in on my mom—and apparently the story of their neighbor ripping down one of their exterior cameras. Because pRiVaCy! Even though it wasn’t pointing at their neighbor’s property but instead down into the back yard so they could keep an eye on Fluffy, my parents’ elderly pooch.
“—and then Todd said…”
My brows shoot up and a bolt of anger ricochets through me. “What the fuck, Mom? I’m calling your attorney. Right now. He can’t threaten you like that.”
“Don’t worry, honey. I was recording and called the police, and Todd’s daughter has had enough of his shit so he’s spending the next few days in jail.”
“And what happens when he gets out?” I mutter.
“I can handle a grumpy, eighty-year-old man—”
“Because she’s married to one!” my dad calls, sounding far too fucking chipper for having dealt with their insane neighbor.
“You’re not eighty, baby—ha, that rhymes.”
“No, that’s a slant rhyme because it’s close but not truly—”
“Mom,” I grit out.
“I can handle Todd,” she says. “And it helps that his daughter is on our side. She’s had enough of him terrorizing the neighborhood, so she’s moving him into a home and selling the house to pay for it.”
“But—”
“Don’t feel bad for him,” she goes on with barely a breath. “You remember Jenny from the other side of the road?”
“Yeah,” I say carefully.
“He poured bleach on her lawn because he didn’t like that her kids were playing out front so much.”
“Oh, my God.”
Except that’s not me talking.
Claire clamps a hand to her mouth, wincing. “Sorry,” she whispers, dropping it a second later.
“Is that a woman?” my mother trills.
Claire winces again.
“Yeah, Mom,” I say. “That’s why I wasn’t picking up the phone.”
“Because you’re on a date,” she says slowly.
“Mom,” I warn.
“Your son is on a date!” she hollers at my dad.
“A date?” my dad shouts, making me hold the phone away from my ear.
Claire giggles.
I sigh.
“We’ll let you get back to your date,” she says archly, making me groan, but before she hangs up, she calls, loud enough that I know Claire can hear it clear as day, “Nice to meet you Mystery Date. I hope we’ll get to chat soon!”
“Mom—”
“My name is Claire,” she says. “And I’m sure we’ll talk soon.”
“Claire?” my dad’s voice echoes through the speakers. “The Claire?”
Shit.
“Bye, guys. Love you. Talk soon,” I say in a hurry then shove my phone in my pocket.
Silence falls between us.
Then her lips twitch. “Your parents are great.”
I groan. “They meddle and drive me batshit crazy,” I grumble, rubbing at a throb in my temple. “But, yeah,” I admit. “They’re great.”
“The Claire?”
“I might have mentioned you a time.” A beat. “Or a hundred.”
Her face softens. “Just so you know, Gran knows all about you.” She smiles. “And regularly gives me a hard time about it—but I still think she’s awesome.”
“She loves you.”
“Yeah,” she whispers.
“Want to call her too?” I joke. “Get her to bellow into the phone speaker, just for funsies?”
She grins. “Gran is less of a bellower than your parents, but I’m sure she could be up for the challenge.”
I laugh, reach over to pick up her fork and steal a bite of cake. “Christ, that’s good,” I moan. “Even though Kurt is an asshole.”
“I thought he was your friend?”
“Not anymore.”
She looks from the plates to the kitchen then back to me. “Is there a reason?”
“Yeah,” I grumble, stealing one more bite before handing her the fork back. The asshole can cook, I’ll give Kurt that much. “He touched you.”
Her lips twitch and then she opens her mouth.
But fucking Kurt comes out right then.
“Try this,” he says, depositing a plate in front of Claire.
“I couldn’t possibly—” But she picks up her fork anyway, dipping it into the concoction Kurt brought and moaning.
My friend—ex friend—smirks at me and it takes everything in me to not reach across the table and throttle him.
But I don’t.
Instead, I get up, lift her from the chair, sit my ass down in it, and then draw her into my lap. “Fuck off,” I tell Kurt.
Who just grins.
Raises his hands.
And then walks away.
Leaving us alone.
Fucking finally.